Pompous prick.
Dom raised his walking stick and withdrew the hollow end of it to reveal his hidden blade. “I’ve already silenced one of you with my fists. If I am forced to silence another, I’ll not be responsible for the bloodshed.”
One of the fancy coves at the table stood suddenly, and all the rest followed suit.
“What the devil are you doing here?” demanded a voice Dom just barely recognized from their one and only meeting some years prior.
Devereaux Winter had only discovered he possessed a bounty of illegitimate half siblings after their arsehole father’s death. Their father’s will had apparently given away his sordid secrets. Winter had done exactly what Dom would have expected of a fancy cove. He had come to The Devil’s Spawn to attempt to buy Dom and the rest of the illegitimate Winters.
Dom had told him to bugger off. The money was unwanted. So, too, the familial connection.
“Forgive me,” he told his half brother, scorn dripping from his voice. “It looks as if I have interrupted a wedding breakfast. My invitation must have been lost.”
Devereaux Winter looked as if he wanted to commit murder. He gripped the back of his chair, scowling. “You are not welcome on my lands.”
That was rich.
“Your lands?” Dom mocked, raising a brow. “Ah, yes, you bought it just as you buy everything and everyone.”
The enmity between them was old and incurable. Only one goal could have driven Dom here. His pride was too great to ever come calling upon Devereaux bloody Winter. Damn the man to Hades.
“Why the hell are you here?” his half brother demanded.
Ah, an easy answer. Dom’s gaze traveled to Lady Adele Saltisford once more, taking grim note that she had paled considerably. Indeed, she looked as if she had seen a ghost. Or as if she needed to cast up her accounts.
“I have come for what is mine,” he told Lady Adele before flicking his gaze back to his half brother. “At long last.”
“Nothing here is yours,” Devereaux warned him.
“I suppose blood means nothing to you,” Dom countered, unperturbed.
That was the thing about them—he and Devereaux Winter were drastically different.
“Go back to the rookeries where you belong,” his half brother snapped. “I will not allow you to hurt this family.”
“I have no intention of hurting anyone as long as I get what I have come here for.” Dom’s lip curled. “Fear not. The bastard Winters want no part of any of you. Attempt to become an aristocrat all you like. We earn our coin as we see fit and answer to no one, least of all Devereaux Winter.”
“We need to speak,” his half brother announced grimly. “In private.”
Fair enough. But Dom had no intention of leaving without doing what he had journeyed all this way for. Still, he could play the civilized gentleman when he chose.
To that end, he inclined his head and trailed in Devereaux Winter’s wake as he left the dining hall. He was keenly aware of Lady Adele’s eyes upon him, following his retreat.
She had not expected to find him here, on her own turf. But if she thought he was the sort of chap who was afraid to invade enemy territory, she knew nothing about the man she had cozened. Because Dominic Winter had no bloody fear, and that was why he had managed to seize the reins of London’s stews and wrap half the East End around his little finger.
And when he left Oxfordshire, she was going to be accompanying him.
By fair means or foul.
* * *
He washere.
Dominic Winter.
Adele had not been prepared for the sight of him in the wilds of Oxfordshire, so far from London. She had hoped he would not remember her. That he would not look for her.
Yet, he had. There had been no mistaking the expression on his wickedly handsome face, the cruel promise in his stare. He had come for her, he knew the truth, and he was furious.
